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Dorothy Inman is a Louisville transplant from St. Louis, MO. She spent 8 years in the corporate world and is now a stay at home mom. She is currently pursuing a career in writing and also co-leads the "Create" Art team at her church. Join her in her musings about writing, art, religion and this thing we call life.

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When I was a little kid my mother made everything from scratch, and I mean EVERYTHING! From icing to cookies to spaghetti sauce to chicken noodle soup. At the time I thought there was something definitely wrong. I would go to my friend's house and they would have icing from a can and rolls of cookie dough (that their mom let them eat WHENEVER they wanted!). My dream as a child was to eat icing out of one of those plastic, preservative filled tubs of icing.

When my husband and I first got married we lived off of Hamburger Helper. We had it at least once a week. We also bought all of the other things my mom wouldn't buy like sugar coated cereal (Lucky Charms, sigh) and had ice cream every night for dessert.

When I was diagnosed with interstitial cystitis all of that prepacked food glory came to an end. The medical condition in some ways was a positive thing for me because it forced me to make almost everything from scratch. And honestly, I now realize that my mom probabl…

The day started perfectly, well almost perfectly. I was woken by my cat, Toto's, annoying meows that had been plaguing us since we got back from vacation a week and a half prior and the sound of trash trucks outside. I knew that even though the child (Alexandria) had not woken up yet, there was no way I would get any extra sleep that morning. I groggily pulled myself out of bed and decided to take advantage of the quiet and do my morning exercises. Alexandria woke up after doing 20 minutes of exercises and actually let me give her a bowl of dry cereal and a sippy cup full of almond milk while I finished my workout. By the end, she was trying to do them with me (victory mom moment!).

That morning we had a play date scheduled with a very dear friend of mine, so Alexandria and I busied ourselves getting ready. In previous mornings Alexandria showed interest while I fixed my hair and pointed to her own, saying, "Hair?". As you can imagine, this filled this fashionist…

There is a letter my third grade teacher, Mrs. Westbrook, gave me on February 16, 1990 that is hanging on my refrigerator. It reads, "I really think you might grow up to be an author. I'm so glad you like to write creative stories! You do a great job!" I leave it there to encourage myself that at one time there was someone out there who saw potential in a 9 year old little girl to be a writer. This life has taken me on some pretty bumpy rides, but if there has been one thing that has been constant, it is my writing. It started with a drawer full of notebooks with unfinished novels in my elementary and teen years. I am hope it ends with a published novel. I started this blog to share my writing with you, but also to share my hopes, dreams, trials and victories.